Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Dear Order
Dear Order
Or, Twenty-One Letters to the Order of the Mechanical Magpie
Letter Nine – “I think you get the idea.”
Minerva McGonagall woke up at nine am on the twenty-third of July and immediately felt that she was going to have an unusually irritating day.
It took her a few minutes to work out what could have caused this feeling, and then after realising that Harry’s letter was due, she acknowledged the more immediate annoyance.
There was a twin in her room.
After several moments of covert observation, as the twin in question hadn’t yet realised that she was awake, she concluded that it was Fred. She also concluded that whatever he was up to, it needed to be stopped immediately.
“Fred Weasley!” she snapped, causing Fred to give a rather girlish scream, leap backwards and fall over a chair, landing with his head stuck under her bed.
Minerva sighed and peered down at the visible part of the teen. “What on earth are you doing?”
“I promise you, Professor,” he assured her in a muffled voice. “This isn’t what it looks like. Er, unless you thought that it looked as though I was sneaking around your room in order to find classified information such as the general location and placement of the furniture in here, in which case it is what it looks like. Um. Is it safe to take my head out?”
“Why would it not be?”
“Well…are you going to turn it into a pumpkin?”
“I highly doubt it.”
“Are you going to perform any other kinds of disfiguring transfiguration?”
“I shall resist the urge.”
“Thank you. I think.” Fred extricated his head and stood quickly. “I’ll just get out of your hair then, Professor…”
“You do that,” she sighed. Then she frowned. “Wait.”
Fred froze with one foot halfway out the door. “Meep?”
“Why were you investigating my furniture, Weasley?” she demanded.
He cleared his throat and looked sheepish. “Well, we were sort of planning a prank, George and me, but now I guess there’s no point…sorry…”
Minerva sighed again. “I see. All right, get out. I wish to get dressed. Your punishment will be decided later.”
Fred blanched and nodded somewhat frantically. “Yes, yes, of course, leaving now.” He turned to continue out the door but paused. “Also, Professor, I’d just like to say that I’m very impressed with how intimidating you can be when you’re in your bed wearing a green tartan nightgown.”
“Out, Weasley!”
“I’m gone!”
*
Harry’s letter arrived at the end of breakfast, somewhere between the beginning of the fight between Ron and George over the last pancake and the announcement from Luna that the final fish had, after much deliberation, been named Strawberry Cupcake Kitty-Cat.
Minerva, much like everyone else at the table (barring Ron and George), forgot the letter momentarily in order to stare at the unrepentant Luna and the somewhat embarrassed Neville.
She was soon reminded of the letter’s presence by the arguing Weasley boys suddenly falling silent. She turned her eyes to them as she picked the envelope up off the table and realised that Hedwig had taken it upon herself to settle their dilemma and was currently tearing the pancake up into more manageable shreds before eating them.
Shaking her head, Minerva opened the letter.
Dear Order,
I have a question for you regarding the end of summer and my return to Hogwarts.
Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
I think you get the idea.
Are we there yet?
Love Harry
PS. Are we there yet?
Minerva’s eye began to twitch and she handed the letter over to Severus in silence. It was slowly passed around the table, evoking the occasional snort of laughter or eye-roll.
Eventually, Dumbledore read the letter and, as the last person to do so, merely set it down before turning to the others with a mild frown. “Do you think that perhaps Harry is somewhat bored?”
There was a loud thud as at least five people slammed their heads onto the table.
Or, Twenty-One Letters to the Order of the Mechanical Magpie
Letter Nine – “I think you get the idea.”
Minerva McGonagall woke up at nine am on the twenty-third of July and immediately felt that she was going to have an unusually irritating day.
It took her a few minutes to work out what could have caused this feeling, and then after realising that Harry’s letter was due, she acknowledged the more immediate annoyance.
There was a twin in her room.
After several moments of covert observation, as the twin in question hadn’t yet realised that she was awake, she concluded that it was Fred. She also concluded that whatever he was up to, it needed to be stopped immediately.
“Fred Weasley!” she snapped, causing Fred to give a rather girlish scream, leap backwards and fall over a chair, landing with his head stuck under her bed.
Minerva sighed and peered down at the visible part of the teen. “What on earth are you doing?”
“I promise you, Professor,” he assured her in a muffled voice. “This isn’t what it looks like. Er, unless you thought that it looked as though I was sneaking around your room in order to find classified information such as the general location and placement of the furniture in here, in which case it is what it looks like. Um. Is it safe to take my head out?”
“Why would it not be?”
“Well…are you going to turn it into a pumpkin?”
“I highly doubt it.”
“Are you going to perform any other kinds of disfiguring transfiguration?”
“I shall resist the urge.”
“Thank you. I think.” Fred extricated his head and stood quickly. “I’ll just get out of your hair then, Professor…”
“You do that,” she sighed. Then she frowned. “Wait.”
Fred froze with one foot halfway out the door. “Meep?”
“Why were you investigating my furniture, Weasley?” she demanded.
He cleared his throat and looked sheepish. “Well, we were sort of planning a prank, George and me, but now I guess there’s no point…sorry…”
Minerva sighed again. “I see. All right, get out. I wish to get dressed. Your punishment will be decided later.”
Fred blanched and nodded somewhat frantically. “Yes, yes, of course, leaving now.” He turned to continue out the door but paused. “Also, Professor, I’d just like to say that I’m very impressed with how intimidating you can be when you’re in your bed wearing a green tartan nightgown.”
“Out, Weasley!”
“I’m gone!”
*
Harry’s letter arrived at the end of breakfast, somewhere between the beginning of the fight between Ron and George over the last pancake and the announcement from Luna that the final fish had, after much deliberation, been named Strawberry Cupcake Kitty-Cat.
Minerva, much like everyone else at the table (barring Ron and George), forgot the letter momentarily in order to stare at the unrepentant Luna and the somewhat embarrassed Neville.
She was soon reminded of the letter’s presence by the arguing Weasley boys suddenly falling silent. She turned her eyes to them as she picked the envelope up off the table and realised that Hedwig had taken it upon herself to settle their dilemma and was currently tearing the pancake up into more manageable shreds before eating them.
Shaking her head, Minerva opened the letter.
Dear Order,
I have a question for you regarding the end of summer and my return to Hogwarts.
Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?
I think you get the idea.
Are we there yet?
Love Harry
PS. Are we there yet?
Minerva’s eye began to twitch and she handed the letter over to Severus in silence. It was slowly passed around the table, evoking the occasional snort of laughter or eye-roll.
Eventually, Dumbledore read the letter and, as the last person to do so, merely set it down before turning to the others with a mild frown. “Do you think that perhaps Harry is somewhat bored?”
There was a loud thud as at least five people slammed their heads onto the table.
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